


The End

by asproutling



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Korrasami Ending Yall, M/M, Post-Canon, Season 7 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 08:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asproutling/pseuds/asproutling
Summary: Joyous cheers. Loud, energetic music. People--and not just the human kind--laughing, crying, hugging, dancing. The atmosphere is one of a buzzing excitement that held all attendees prisoner to its infectious wave of glee and gaiety.Hunk's carefully chosen array of edibles is a hit, naturally, amongst the countless party-goers; Pidge's impressive Altean tech-sourced light display captivates the crowd; Lance's family is performing one of their traditional ballads for a large audience on the other side of the field, and-It's almost an impossible, dangerous thought, but-We won. We actually won.AKA The Sheith-Korrasami ending we all want.





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> for @sheithsunderground over on Tumblr, thanks for the prompt!

Joyous cheers. Loud, energetic music. People--and not just the human kind--laughing, crying, hugging, dancing. The atmosphere is one of a buzzing excitement that holds all attendees prisoner to its infectious wave of glee and gaiety.

Hunk's carefully chosen array of edibles is a hit, naturally, amongst the countless party-goers; Pidge's impressive Altean tech-sourced light display captivates the crowd; Lance's family is performing one of their traditional ballads for a large audience on the other side of the field, and-

It's almost an impossible, dangerous thought, but-

 _We won_. _We actually won_.

 _Won_. The word feels almost hollow to him, now. Shiro wasn't sold on the idea, not completely; he certainly wasn't feeling like a winner. He had so much taken from him, those things oftentimes replaced with the very evil they were fighting against.

Shiro shakes his head at the thought, glancing down to glimpse upon his right arm, the hybrid technologies of human and Altean intertwining, humming and vibrating with pure energy.

It's still weird to see a gap of space where his elbow used to be--metallic or otherwise, but it's growing on him. He can fake out anyone within a dozen or so feet now, tapping on their shoulders before reeling his arm back in. His friends are wising up, though, the tactic becoming a bit familiar and expected. Still, it's the most fun he gets some days. The similarities between his and Sendak's arm aren't lost on him, of course-

Another shake of his head. _Not going there right now_. He has an appointment set up with Dr. Chakwas tomorrow--she seemed an alright sort when they met, if not a little blunt, which he figures might be the best way to deal with...everything, right now.

He looks around and sees them, though: his friends, his comrades, his _family_ , all sporting the same genuine smiles, celebrating their hard-fought victory over Haggar and her Altean-powered super mechs. God, was that battle a rough one.

But they're here. They're alive. They're well.

Well... most of them.

Taking a swig of his Nunvill, audibly groaning at the foul taste, Shiro scans the area, allowing himself to fully take in the absolute glow of the party.

On his nearby left Hunk and Pidge are sitting at a table, food and drink discarded in preference to their animated discussion about... something. Probably some techno-babble Shiro can only half keep up with most of the time. Sam, Colleen, Matt and his partner Mira sit beside them, bellowing laughter forthcoming from their lips as food slings between the younger two, their debate quickly heating up.

The whole table erupts into a food-for-all. Shiro chuckles to himself at the sight, reminiscing about the original paladins' food fight on the castle ship all that time ago. Things are so different, now, and yet... still so the same.

To his right Lance and Allura are dancing to the ambient music, a surprising amount of rhythmic fluidity apparent in their movements. Allura's hair is down--literally and figuratively, _finally_ , Shiro's mind supplies--and she's wearing the Altean gown she was dressed in when the group met for the first time. Lance is sporting a royal blue, slim fit tux, a black bow tie accentuating his neck.

The two are a  _sight_ , if Shiro is being honest with himself, Allura twirling and dipping Lance to her heart's content. The couple's faces are beet red, the physical exertion and proximity of one being so close to the other coloring their visages. Their smiles are blindingly bright.

Shiro's happy for them, he absolutely, genuinely is, but some small part of him can't help but feel... envi-

"...And  _that's_ how Pop-pop Wimbleton Smythe saved me from the rampaging, ferocious flatwernorfen that day when I was just a wee boy." Coran's voice booms from behind in that high pitched tone of his, as per usual, sharing another one of his fanciful childhood stories with some poor soul.

"Flat-when... who, now?" Keith's words cut through it all--the hustle and bustle drifts away, Shiro zeroing in on the man's voice sorely out of habit alone. "You made that word up _just now_."

Shiro finds himself walking towards the two, his legs working of their own volition. There's no point in trying to fight the motion--he's known about and recognized the inherent gravitational pull there is when it comes to him and Keith, a binary star system all their own, forever encroaching, encroaching, a collision of boundless energy and light a magnificent inevitability.

They're gathered around an old water fountain, stone brown and chipped with age; its three main tiers are round in shape and increase with size the closer to the ground they get. Keith sits on the edge precariously, Coran standing to his side, gesticulating wildly.

"Absolutely _not_!" came Coran's shrill, offended reply. "The Big Fs are nothing to sneeze at, number four. They'll have you down and out in two ticks flat if you aren't careful!"

As he approaches Shiro notices how calming the sound of the flowing water is, how his breathing slows and eventually evens out the closer he gets. It's quieter over here, too--Shiro knows of Keith's personal affinity with the quiet and smiles to himself.

"Hm. I'm sure you're right," Keith grunts out. He's obviously done with this conversation, but too polite to admit it--a quiet testament to his growth as a person. Shiro accepts his role in getting Keith out of this one.

"Hey, Coran!" he bellows from behind, startling the Altean. Keith turns sharply, his eyes finding Shiro's, lighting up with a barely visible intensity; in the eyes of Shiro: when it comes to Keith, everything is always visible--every furrowed line on his face, every look of doubt or shame, every sly smile that forms when some God-awful joke is told.

How could it be any less?

"Shiro, perfect timing!" Coran begins excitedly. "I was just informing Keith here of one of my many _daring_ and  _drastic_ adventures when I was your relative age. Care to join us?" he exclaims, pulling confidently at his well-groomed mustache.

Shiro lifts his left hand, palm visible, declining the invitation. "Maybe next time, Coran. Actually, I came by to tell you: Romelle needs your help in Storage Bay C--something about 'exploding pumpkins' and 'Oh quiznak, oh quiznak, they're seedy insides are everywhere'?"

The gasp that comes from Coran is nothing short of comedic, the look on his face a storm no one would really be afraid of, because it's, well... Coran.

"I  _told_ that girl not to mess with my experiments! She's up and ruined _everything_! I paid 900 GAC for that synthian nitrate. When I get my hands on her..." he trails off, his walk stiff and furious. Shiro makes a mental note to apologize to Romelle later. _With chocolate_ , he adds, _that girl really loves her chocolate_.

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself, and walks up to Keith, offering a slightly softer than intended "Hey."

"Shiro, hey," Keith begins, voice just as soft as Shiro takes a seat beside him--it's an effort to find the right amount of space between the two, when all he wants to do is saddle up close to the other man, feel Keith's body heat radiate beside him. Shiro thinks he manages well.

"Thanks for that," Keith continues, his eyes never leaving Shiro's. "I owe you one."

 _We owe each other a lot more than just "one,"_  Shiro thinks, but instead says, "It's no problem. I'd like to think you'd have done the same for me. Once Coran gets going there's almost no stopping him, huh?"

That puts a tiny smile on Keith's face. "A force of nature. I was about to send for reinforcements."

"Ah. Acxa, maybe? She's good in a fight. And you two seem to be getting... pretty close." The thought of the half-Galra woman twisted something inside Shiro's gut, rearranging his carefully placed emotions, feelings and thoughts. He thinks he knows why, but doesn't have the time to acknowledge it.

Keith seems a bit confused at that. "She's a great fighter, yeah. And she's actually pretty funny once you get to know her." He pauses. "Beyond that... I guess you could say we kind of have a 'warrior's respect' for each other, if that makes sense?"

Shiro calms at the words. He has no reason to be assuming such... _things,_ but can't find himself stopping the sigh of relief that pours out from the tips of his lips. "It does, yeah."

Both men turn their heads towards the sky and marvel at the artistry before them. The sun is setting, painting the heavens in different, absolutely marvelous hues of purple and red. It's for them, Shiro thinks selfishly--for all the hard work they've given, for all their tears and sacrifice, for all the time that was taken from that could never be returned--the most wondrous consolation prize because  _they're here_ and _they get to see this_ , which sounds like nothing but... it's _everything_.

Shiro looks back at Keith, eyes unabashedly roaming the planes of the other man's face; he might've felt shame, once, but no more. He takes in the tiniest of moles, the stubble forming; the red, raised scar--all Keith, a word--a name--synonymous with  _beautiful_ and  _gorgeous_ and-

Keith's brows were furrowing, eyes squinting, an apparent war waging inside his mind. Shiro has a feeling as to why, wonders if Keith will engage with him as to the why; they hadn't had time for  _them_ in a long, long while, and there was so much to be said between, things they kept glossing over in the past.

They have nothing but time now, at least, Shiro being eternally grateful for that  _something_  that should have been a given--would have been a given to anyone who weren't them. There was nothing he was going to take for granted, now.

"Everything okay?" Shiro finally inquires, cutting the companionable silence in half, the remains disappearing around them like some unexplainable magic.

Keith looks back down at his lap, shuts his eyes closed tightly, fidgets with his fingers. Shiro silently prays Keith knows he asks because he wants to, not because he feels he has to--he cares, forever, immeasurably.

"No." A solid, if not rough, response, Shiro thinks. He wasn't expecting an honest answer right off the bat like that, he figured he'd have to dig a little deeper--but there Keith goes again, surprising him and upending all his rooted-in expectations for the Nth time. "Not everything, but-" Keith stops himself from continuing, trying to find the words, form into understanding the feelings that are plaguing him.

"Hey." Shiro's left hand finds its way to the all-too familiar location of Keith's right shoulder. He gently turns Keith to face him; the expression he's met with is a pained one. "She's gonna be okay."

Krolia had taken a near-fatal attack in their final fight against Haggar--an attack that was meant for Keith.

Shiro wasn't present for that fight, settled in a covering position at the time, only learning of the details afterwards from those who were. Apparently the magic blast Haggar let loose had been one of her more powerful ones, Keith was half-collapsed on the floor of that Galra ship, the easiest of targets, gasping for breath-

Krolia had thrown herself in the way, because _of course she had_ , flying halfway across the room, body hitting the metallic wall with a violent _crack_ , dropping to floor, unmoving.

She was now recovering in the med wing of the Garrison, in stable condition fortunately, but still unconscious for almost a week now. Shiro's heart was aching; he remembers how it felt when Keith was in a similar situation those few months ago, bandages that circled the top of his skull, the midsection of his torso, his wrists and ankles. Shiro knows Keith wants nothing more than to stay by her bedside day in and day out--it's a miracle he's here, now.

"She's gonna be alright," Shiro finds himself saying, knowing that to be the complete and utter truth. She's a fighter, like Keith--or Keith's a fighter, like her. And his father--a family of warriors in every aspect of the word. "She's strong," he continues, his eyes never leaving Keith's shining ones. "Like someone else I know."

Keith lets out a barely audible whine, one Shiro knows he'll deny if it were ever brought up, and launches himself at Shiro, arms tightly wrapping around his broad shoulders. Shiro tenses at first, but soon relaxes into it, reciprocating the gesture. He nuzzles his nose into the raven hair that rests an inch from his nose, breathing deep--something wild within himself settles at the comforting scent. They stay like that for a few moments, just relishing in the heat of the other.  _It's been so long._

They break apart, their faces still only a foot or so away from each other, and Shiro can't help but eye over the scar again. He lifts his left hand up towards Keith's face, reaching the mark, his thumb rubbing circles into the man's burned skin, soothing and tender.

There was no talk that had taken place between the two about--that fight, yet. It's still too painful, a raw, festering wound, one that needed aiding ASAP.

"Keith, I'm- I'm so-"

"Shiro, it's okay, it's okay. You know that wasn't you. I know that wasn't you--please forgive yourself for that. And, what I did to your arm-"

Shiro lowers his hand, gives Keith a pointed look. "You know I could more or less say the same to you."

Keith gives an assenting nod. "You could. And you would, but... I'm just glad you're back, Shiro. I don't care about the rest."

Shiro gulps around the lump in his throat, saliva rough going down his esophagus. 

"We're... okay?" Shiro asks hesitantly--he knows the answer, knows it with all his being, but it needs to be verbalized, acknowledged.

Keith shakes his head, a fond smile forming on his face. "Were we ever not okay?"

Shiro chuckles to himself, and the air feels a bit lighter, somehow, this growing tension between them finally dissipating, and-

He's the happiest he's been in a long, _long_ time.

"So, what with the Earth and the rest of the universe saved--for the time being, anyway--what do you suppose we do now?" Shiro asks, voice bright and hopeful.

"Mm. Well, for now... nothing until mom recovers." Shiro's heart skips a beat at the casual word-dropping of  _mom_ , how average of a word it sounds coming from Keith, now--how supremely unusual the word was to Keith years before. "After that..." He shrugs, looking back to the sky, Shiro following his gaze. "I hear there's a whole beach planet in the Valurian quadrant." A pause. "We could go. Just the two of us."

Shiro's eyes widen at the suggestion, but nothing could appeal to him more, and that's the honest-to-goodness truth. "Sounds perfect."

 

* * *

 

Making their way to Hangar A, their belongings packed and their goodbyes said, Shiro and Keith find themselves in front of a resting, forcefield-protected Black. She drops the barrier once the two are close enough, eyes lighting up in recognition of her two paladins.

"What do you say, Black?" Keith yells out, chin raised and chest forward. "Wanna go on a little adventure?"

Black stands, getting up off her haunches, and _roars_. "Sounds like a yes to me," Shiro remarks, giddy and filled with overwhelming excitement. He takes Keith's right hand in his left, giving it a tiny a squeeze, the words _Let's do this_ heard yet unspoken.

They walk hand-in-hand, Black bowing down and opening her mouth for their entry. Shiro can't imagine what he's done to deserve this-- _he can_ , though--he's worked so hard and fought so much harder. He does deserve this. _They_ deserve this. And he'll do whatever it takes to hold onto it, for as long as he shall live.

Whatever it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhhhhHHHH
> 
> hope ya'll enjoyed!
> 
> @shiros-sprout on Tumblr. For @sheithesunderground on tumblr
> 
> uwu


End file.
